


The Man Who Got Frozen

by acollectionofdaydreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Claire and Dean bicker, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Picks up sometime after 5x19, References to 5x18, Reunion, What Finale? Idk her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acollectionofdaydreams/pseuds/acollectionofdaydreams
Summary: The others have been trying to move on, but Dean just can't. He thinks some part of him might be stuck there forever, right on the floor where Cas left him. Sometimes good things do happen, though.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	The Man Who Got Frozen

The bunker was quiet afterwards. 

Well, it actually wasn’t, but that’s how it felt for Dean anyways. Eileen moved in after she and Sam found each other again, and the two of them were nauseatingly adorable as always. Dean was happy for them and honestly grateful because Eileen brought out a side of his brother that he hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. He was happier, lighter. It was what Sam deserved.

The surprise addition to the household had been Claire. She and Jody got into some kind of teenage angst filled argument according to Jody’s warning text, and she’d shown up on their doorstep with little more than a backpack and a scowl on her face. They’d barely gotten two words out of her, but whatever was going on at home, apparently she thought sulking around the bunker with the Winchester’s was preferable. Dean wasn’t so sure he would agree, but that was her choice. If she wanted to be miserable and glare at her phone, she’d probably come to the right place.

The three of them brought life to the bunker, each in their own way. The quiet seemed to belong solely to Dean. It clung to him like a heavy wet blanket, silencing conversations and laughter as soon as he rounded the corner. He wasn’t sure if they were worried about upsetting him or if he just really looked so pathetic that he sucked the joy out of any room he entered. Both could be true, he supposed. It wasn’t like he’d been great company since…. well, since.

It had been three weeks, two days, and six hours since Cas disappeared.

The others were taking it hard too to be fair, especially Sam. At least Sam had Eileen to distract him though. He suspected Claire wasn’t really the picture of emotional health either, but she wasn’t talking about much of anything, and honestly, he could relate. In every way that mattered, Dean was still in the dungeon, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. 

He wandered the halls instead of sleeping most nights, entering rooms at random and then leaving again, but he never actually went in that room. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was beginning to feel like a ghost haunting his own home. A restless, borderline vengeful spirit tied to the place where it all went wrong. 

The others noticed, of course. Sam had mentioned his late night adventures exactly once and then never again after Dean had told him to back off. He probably shouldn’t have done that. He knew Sam was trying to be nice or whatever. He just couldn’t handle people being _nice_ to him about Cas being gone because that would mean it had really happened, and that wasn’t fucking possible. Dean wasn’t grieving. He was lying in wait. He just wasn’t sure what the fuck he was waiting for.

A miracle, maybe, or more likely, for the other shoe to drop. It always did with them.

It was about 3 AM when he wandered into the war room and stopped short because it wasn’t empty like he’d expected it to be. Claire was sitting in Dean’s usual chair in a pair of black sweatpants and a flannel covered t-shirt with her hair falling in messy blonde waves around her face, which was glaring down at the bottle of beer sitting in front of her.

“You know you’re not supposed to be drinking that,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice before letting her face settle back into a scowl.

She shot back, “Who are you, my dad?”

The comment stung a little more than he was sure she’d meant for it to. He wasn’t her dad, but thinking about her dad made him think about Cas. He’d cared so damn much about his wayward pseudo-daughter, and now he was gone and it really clicked for Dean in that moment that Claire had lost another parent. Dean should probably feel the urge to step up and be there for her, because it’s what Cas would want, but looking at her now just made him feel like he’d failed yet another person. 

He shrugged, “Guess not.”

She watched him closely as he walked around the table and settled into Sam’s chair. He could practically feel some of the ice melting off of her glare before she said, “Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He waved his hand and said, “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

She nodded at him and reached for her beer, not really looking guilty as she took a swig. Dean almost cracked a smile at that. She sat it back down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before settling into the chair with a graceless flop.

“What are you doing up anyways?” he asked her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. Then she looked up at him as she added, “Sam says you’re not sleeping either.”

Dean laughed, although it wasn’t funny, and said, “Sam needs to mind his own business.”

Claire shot him the tiniest grin before saying, in a softer voice, “You know he’s just worried about you.”

“You mean like Jody’s worried about you?” he asked her. “She’s called every day since you left, you know. You could at least text her back.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Jody’s fine. It’s not like I’m out getting myself killed on a hunt or something.”

Dean stared at her, watched the way she didn’t even flinch at the harsh words leaving her own mouth. It was like looking in a mirror at his own eighteen year old self, and it didn’t make him feel better.

He asked, “Why are you here anyway? Moping doesn’t really seem like your style.”

“Maybe I’m just following your example,” she replied.

He leveled a glare at her, which she responded to with a raised eyebrow. He sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. Well, he’d tried anyway.

“Whatever,” he said. 

They were silent for a moment. Only the sounds of the old walls settling around them filled the room, as Sam and Eileen had been asleep for hours like normal people. Then she sighed.

“I didn’t know where else to go. It sounds stupid now, but I thought…”

Dean looked up at her as she trailed off, a frustrated look on her face.

“You thought what?” he asked.

She said, “I thought you might know how to bring him back.”

She looked back down at her beer, unwilling to meet his eyes after her confession, and Dean felt the thousand pound weight in his chest grow a little bit heavier.

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint,” he said.

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment as she twisted her bottle around on the table in front of her.

“He wouldn’t want this, you know,” she replied finally. It came out quickly like she’d been holding it back for awhile, and he had to really fight the cruel response that sprung to life in his throat.

Instead, he swallowed roughly as he said, “Well, then maybe he shouldn’t have left.”

“I wouldn’t call dying ‘leaving,” she argued.

“He’s not dead,” Dean snapped.

The words came out of his mouth with a surprisingly sharp edge to them, and he exhaled as he stared down at the table between them. He closed his eyes and told himself to cool the fuck down. It wasn’t Claire’s fault. She was just a kid, and he knew deep down that he’d feel worse for picking a fight with her. So, he steeled himself and avoided her gaze when he opened his eyes again.

“I’m going to bed,” he said.

He rose from the chair and left the room, not waiting for the response that never came.

The next morning found him having whiskey for breakfast and avoiding Sam’s eyes as he entered the kitchen. Sam wisely chose to say nothing about it. 

“Eileen and I are going to be gone for a couple of days,” he said conversationally instead as he reached for the pot of coffee that someone must have brewed before Dean woke up. He continued, “One of Eileen’s hunting buddies called, said they needed help clearing out a vamp nest in Omaha.”

Dean knew that tone. It was a bait if he’d ever heard one. Instead of rising to it, he simply said, “Okay, have fun.”

Sam didn’t say anything in response, and Dean tapped his fingers on the table as he waited out his brother’s twitchy glare and pursed lips. Like clockwork, he finished pouring his coffee and sighed.

“You could come too, you know,” he said. “It might be good for you.”

“Pass,” Dean immediately replied.

Sam huffed this time before saying, “Dean, you can’t stay here forever. I mean, you’re not eating and you’re barely sleeping. I haven’t seen you drink a glass of water in _weeks_...”

“Sammy, leave it,” Dean cut him off in warning.

“No,” Sam argued, and Dean felt the muscles in his jaw tense as he continued, “I’m not going to just sit here and watch you slowly kill yourself. I know you’re grieving or whatever, but the rest of us lost Cas too.” His voice grew quieter as he said, “We have to keep living though or what will it all have been for?”

Before he could catch himself, Dean replied, “It’s not the same. What I’m doing, it’s not grieving, it’s….”

Sam’s face softened as Dean trailed off, the words getting lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth. 

“Talk to me, Dean, please,” Sam tried. 

“What good would it do?” Dean asked.

Sam laughed a little helplessly and leaned against the counter. He said, “I don’t know. Maybe it won’t, but it has to be better than keeping it all inside until you eventually explode.”

Dean frowned as he admitted to himself that Sam had a point. Historically, he did tend to carry these things around until the pressure burst and sent them flying out, ricocheting like shrapnel at everyone in his path. He sighed, letting himself admit defeat in the face of Sam’s pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, fine,” he said. “It sucks. Is that what you want to hear? He’s gone, and I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see him smiling as that, that _thing_ takes him, and I...”

Sam looked like he was fighting back the sympathetic look Dean knew he wanted to give him, and he appreciated the effort at least. Gently, when it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to continue, Sam asked, “Has it always been like this for you when we’ve lost him before?”

The question caught him off guard, and Dean let himself consider it for a moment. He’d spent months having nightmares after the Leviathan sent Cas into that lake, and leaving Purgatory had Dean straight up hallucinating him more than once. Somehow, the hole in his chest this time was different though. He didn’t really have to guess to know why.

“No,” he said truthfully. “It’s never been like this.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully before sinking down on the other side of the kitchen table across from him. Finally, after a few sips of his coffee, he asked, “Are you ever going to tell me what really happened?”

Dean actually wasn’t sure if he was going to or not, to be honest. He knew Sam was curious, and it wasn’t exactly fair for Dean to be keeping the details to himself because Sam and Cas had been friends too. It still felt too raw to even think about though, much less talk about. He kind of thought that not saying it outloud might be the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart. 

“Probably,” he finally let himself say, “but right now, man, I just don’t think I can.”

Sam nodded and gave him a tight but understanding smile. 

“Well, I’m here whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Dean nodded and said, “Thanks.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed once as he stood up and left the room, leaving Dean alone with his whiskey and his thoughts again.

Sam and Eileen left that afternoon, and Claire locked herself in her chosen bedroom early on in the evening, apparently not up for another heart to heart. So Dean found himself alone again, wandering the halls like the ghost he was slowly becoming. This time, without really paying attention to where his feet were taking him, he found himself heading down, down, down until he ended up right outside the dungeon’s door. He hadn’t been here since that night. It had taken him awhile to pick himself up off the floor, maybe hours, he really couldn’t have been sure. But there had been no reason to go back after that. 

He pushed open the door slowly, as if something might be waiting to jump out at him, and stood stockstill as the empty room revealed itself. It looked exactly the same, which was both horrifying and less terrible than he’d expected. There was no black sludge on the floor, but his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he took one and then two steps inside. Every beat brought the flash of a memory. _Thump_ , Billie banged on the door. _Thump_ , the walls began to shake. _Thump_ , Cas turned to him, tears running down his cheeks.

Dean stopped and brought his hands up to cover his ears, digging his fingers in his hair like he could pull the sound right out of his head. A low, guttural noise wrenched itself from his chest and out of his mouth instead, and he dropped his hands. The first thing in his line of sight was an old metal chair, so he picked it up and threw it against the wall. 

As it clanged and crashed to the floor, he screamed, “Fuck!”

Only an echoing silence responded, so he yelled again. The room didn’t crumble around him under the weight of his fury though. It still stood there, just as it was that night, and he suddenly felt a wave of nausea come over him. It had been a stupid idea to come back here. 

“You stupid son of a bitch,” he gritted out. A lump was quickly forming in his throat, and he tried to swallow around it as he hung his head and sniffled. He looked up again and blinked quickly against the hot tears stinging his eyes. Then, only because there was no one around to hear it but this stupid empty room, he said, “Me too, Cas.”

No one answered, of course, and he wasn’t really sure if saying it had helped or not. Maybe it didn’t really matter. 

He nodded to himself once and exhaled as he left the room and turned out the lights.

The next morning, Dean made breakfast while Claire sat at the table with her phone in her hands. She wasn’t usually the chatty type to begin with, but she’d been silently typing all morning every time he’d glanced in her direction.

“Who are you sending that novel to?” he asked.

She cut her eyes at him quickly before looking back down at her phone and answering, “Jody.”

He smiled to himself and turned around before she could see it. She may be a pain in the ass when she wanted to be, but she was a good kid. 

He said, “Tell her I said hi.”

Claire replied, “Text her yourself.”

In a mocking voice, he mumbled under his breath, “ _Text her yourself_.”

“I heard that,” she said.

“Good,” he said over his shoulder.

He could practically hear her eye roll as he grinned to himself.

It was then that a loud banging noise floated down the hallway from the front of the bunker. Dean spun around in an instant, and Claire froze as she looked first in that direction and then at him.

She whispered, “I thought Sam and Eileen weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“They’re not,” Dean whispered back.

He held up a finger to shush her and motioned for her to stay put as he pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and held it in front of him. He crept down the hallway with the practiced silence of a trained hunter, holding the gun up around every corner only to be met with another empty corridor. Finally, he got to the last remaining entryway to the war room and paused, preparing himself for whatever might be waiting for him. Then he rounded the corner, and… there was Cas.

About a million thoughts sprung to his mind at once, but none of them managed to become words as he slowly lowered his gun in dumbfounded silence.

“Dean.”

It was him. Dean was sure of it. He knew there were tests that he should run to make sure that this wasn’t another cruel joke by someone like Lucifer or worse. Every instinct he had knew that, but the pull in his gut telling Dean that it was _him_ was stronger.

In a small and strangled voice, he managed to say, “Cas?”

Then Cas smiled, and he dropped his gun onto the floor and ran.

It was probably undignified, the way he threw himself into Cas, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he wrapped his arms around him and gripped the fabric of the familiar trenchcoat in his hands. Cas didn’t say anything in response, but he returned the embrace just as fiercely.

Dean took a step back after a moment and really looked at him. He looked unchanged from those final moments, as if he’d just stepped right out of Dean’s last, terrible memory of him.

Dean asked, “How?”

“Jack,” Cas replied, a small smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. “He pulled me out and dropped me off here before returning to Heaven. He said to tell you and Sam hello.”

Dean surprised himself by laughing, but Cas’s smile simply grew wider. Dean started to say something else, anything really, but he was cut off by a gasp from behind him.

He turned to see Claire staring with a shocked look on her face, and then she was barrelling past him to nearly knock Cas over with a hug of her own. Cas looked up at Dean in surprise briefly before bringing one hand up to hug her back.

“Hello, Claire,” he said.

She pulled out of his embrace quickly to point and glare at him as she said, “Never do that again, do you hear me?”

Her words were undermined a little by the look of pure relief on her face, but Cas still put on a serious expression as he promised her, “I will try not to.”

Claire finally smiled at him in response to that, and Dean cleared his throat.

He said, “Uh, Claire, could you call Sam and Eileen and let them know what’s going on?”

She gave him an only mildly suspicious look before agreeing and leaving to get her phone from the kitchen. That left him alone with Cas again, and he really wasn’t sure what he wanted to do or say. Cas didn’t seem sure either. Dean thought you probably could have heard a pin drop in the silence between them.

Then at the same time, they both spoke.

“Cas, I need to…”

“Dean, I’m sorry…”

They both stopped, and Dean almost laughed until he registered what Cas was starting to say.

“Wait,” he said, “what are you sorry for?”

Cas replied, “I’m sorry for what I said to summon the Empty. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Cas’s words brought the swirling flood of emotions in Dean’s mind narrowing down to a single point as he felt a little bit of anger rise within him.

He said, “Damn right it wasn’t. Cas, you don’t even know what I…”

“I know,” Cas said, “and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean’s jaw dropped a little as he practically sputtered, “ _Uncomfortable_? Cas, I’ve been fucking devastated.”

Cas frowned at that and tilted his head a little as he stared at Dean. He said, “I assure you, if I had known it would upset you that much, I never would have…”

“Cas, you told me you loved me and then you _died_! I thought I’d never get to…” he trailed off as his jaw snapped shut and he stared at Cas, willing him to fill in the blanks of that sentence for himself.

Cas stared back at him for a few confused seconds before something like recognition clicked in his expression. He looked a little like he’d been slapped across the face, and he simply said, “Oh.”

After a few seconds of silence, Dean asked, “ _Oh_? That’s your response?”

Before he could say anything else though, Cas took two steps to close the distance between them and kissed him. 

Dean’s brain shut down for approximately one second before he finally got with the program and gripped Cas’s hips to pull him closer as he kissed him back. Cas’s hands came to rest on either side of his face, and Dean exhaled as he practically collapsed against the warm lips on his own. It was somehow both desperate and tender at the same time, like the first breath after being underwater for too long punching through his lungs as it brought him back to life. After what was probably only a few seconds, Cas pulled away just enough to look at him as Dean tried to catch his breath.

“That,” Cas said, a little breathless himself, “is my response.”

Dean felt a slightly hysterical laugh fight its way out of his chest, and the feeling only grew when Cas gave him a pleased little smile.

Without giving it a single thought, because he was fucking tired of only thinking about it, he said, “I love you.”

Cas’s smile widened, and he leaned back in to bury his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder and wrap his arms around him in a tight hug as he replied, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from right where you left me by Taylor Swift! This started as an exercise in catharsis and turned into Dean and Claire sassing each other somewhere in the middle, but then worked its way back around to what hopefully is a satisfying ending for these characters we love. Let me know what you think! You can find me on tumblr at evermoredean.


End file.
